


Der Nekromant

by Zethsaire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Derek, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Dark, Dark Magic, Demons, Familiars, Feral Behavior, Feral Derek, Full Shift Werewolves, Ghosts, Human Isaac Lahey, M/M, Murder, Necromancy, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Shinigami, Summoning, Top Isaac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zethsaire/pseuds/Zethsaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek needs a necromancer to free the ghosts of his dead pack, there's only one person he can turn to - Isaac Lahey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Der Nekromant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justwaitaclocktick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwaitaclocktick/gifts).



> Note: Neither Isaac or Derek are the one who dies in this fic. Please heed the tags! This is a very dark fic! It has a happy ending...ish? If evil necromancers and feral werewolves can have happy endings.
> 
> So many thank you's to my lovely beta DangerousCommieSubversive, who betas my TW fics even though she doesn't watch the show. 
> 
> Also so much love and thanks to the mods of the TeenWolfRarePairExchange, Astrid and Kassie! They were so great about answering my questions and pairing us all together. They just worked really hard and made doing the exchange really fun!! Thank you!!

“You're a necromancer? Really?” Derek couldn't help stare at the tall, starved looking kid in front of him. Sure, he had the haunted look and generally tainted aura that a necromancer might have, but really it just made him want to give the kid a sandwich. Nothing about him seemed to inspire the awe and terror of the man's supposed reputation.

“I'm whatever I wanna be. What are you supposed be? A wrestling cosplayer?”

Derek just snarled and flashed his eyes.

The necromancer wasn't impressed. “Not much of an Alpha without a pack, are you.”

“That's why I'm here.”

“You want me to resurrect your pack for you?”

“No. I want you to lay them to rest.”

“I'm a necromancer, not a florist.”

“I don't have any other options, okay? My whole pack is tied to the damn house they died in, and it's so fucking cursed, no one will go near it. You're my – only option.” As much as it pained Derek to admit it.

The necromancer took in his desperate expression and licked his lips a little. “Yeah. Alright. You can come in for a consult, at least. I'm Isaac.”

“Derek.”

Isaac grinned a profoundly disturbing grin that made it plain that he was well aware of who Derek was. “Well then, Derek, welcome to my store.”

The building they were standing in front of was nothing more than a particularly dilapidated old Dunkin' Donuts shop that had been abandoned for at least the last ten years, but after actually getting Isaac to agree to a consult, Derek wasn't arguing. Isaac actually held the door for him, giving him a mocking and flourished bow as he enters. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the entire place changed.

He'd never seen an illusion this intense before. Every part of his senses, including his Alpha vision and his heightened sense of smell, which were notoriously hard to fool, would have sworn that he'd been in an abandoned building. He'd still been able to pick up the faint trace of doughnut grease, ground into the walls over time. And now, well, he might as well have been teleported somewhere else. (Maybe he was.) Even the faint earthy scents coming in from the outside were completely different. Maybe Isaac was going to live up to his reputation after all.

The shop...really didn't look like a necromancer's shop. It was more like what he'd expect if he'd gone into a Dolce and Gabanna and demanded a high end line of necromantic furniture. Everything was very organized, and very – classy. If you didn't look too closely, it could have been a nice, albeit overpriced, bookstore, except the books had titles like _Devouring the Souls of Your Enemies_ and _Bathing in Blood: 15 Guaranteed Skin Cures_. The ingredients for sale across the shop were all placed in beautiful glass jars, wrapped in ribbons, and labeled in neat cream labels and black calligraphic writing. Terribly beautiful, disturbing labels like _Harpy's Feathers, Baby's Breath,_ and _Dead Man's Blood_. Derek – really didn't even know how to handle this place.

There were two other people in the shop. One was a luxurious strawberry-blonde, who practically reeked of death. And very expensive perfume. It made Derek want to sneeze. She was painting her fingernails and looking at Derek with an arched eyebrow. Her gaze made him shiver.

“That's Lydia. She's the reason the place looks nice.”

“I also foretell nasty deaths.” Lydia said with a sniff.

“She's a banshee,” said a drawling voice from the corner. A gaunt faced young man with wild hair and soulless eyes smirked at him. He was wearing the rattiest pair of jeans and black t-shirt Derek had ever seen, and was pacing back and forth, but never past the barrier of silver set into the floor.

“That's Void,” Isaac said drily. “He's my familiar.”

Derek let his eyes flash, and glared at him with his Alpha's vision. The kid's body fell away, leaving a mass of swirling darkness full of teeth and anger. “What the fuck?”

“He used to be the Sheriff’s kid, Stiles. He was in my high school chemistry class.”

“Stiles? I thought the Sheriff only had one kid. My sister used to babysit him. Grz-”

“Be quiet!” Void snapped at him.

Derek glowered at him. What the hell did the demon care? “ _Stiles'_ name is a matter of public record.”

“Magic is all about pronunciation,” Isaac informed him. “I imagine that's how Stiles got himself possessed in the first place. I know the name on Stiles' birth certificate, but not the pronunciation. Not that I need it to control Void.”

Derek thought he might be a little ill. He hadn't kept up with anyone in Beacon Hills, after the fire, after they'd moved away, but – he'd played with Stiles as a kid. Chased him all over the back yard, played videogames with him. Played pranks on his sister with the kid. And now he was -

“It's not Stiles in there anymore, Derek,” Isaac said, “It's just his body.”

“Where's – where's his soul, then?”

Isaac shrugged. “Void probably ate it.”

Void grinned darkly. “It was delicious.”

Derek suppressed a shudder and turned away. He wished there was any other way to help his pack than deal with all of this. But Stiles wasn't the first person he'd known who'd met a nasty end, and he probably wouldn't be the last. Derek just had to get through this, and then - He just had to get through this.

Isaac's smile was dark and beautiful, but it didn't make him feel any better. “Whatever happened, there's nothing you could have done. Come over to the counter and we can talk about why you're here.”

Derek followed Isaac to the polished wood counter, and sat warily on a stool that placed him between Isaac and Lydia who were sitting on the other side. Void had stopped pacing and was now watching him hungrily from the point of his circle that was closest to Derek. There was a faint – hum – coming from the wood, and Derek glanced down at it. “Is this – from the Nemeton?”

Lydia answered him. “Please. Like even we could afford to get a piece of wood this big from the Nemeton. That wood was cut up and scattered years ago. It's from another tree, a few hours from here. Not as good as having wood from our tellauric currents, but it does well enough.”

“Another tree?” His family had protected and worshiped the Nemeton for centuries. He'd never known there were others.

“Did you think this was the only one?”

Derek grit his teeth, and didn't say anything.

“So what, exactly, do you want me to do?”

Derek took a deep, fortifying breath, and said, “My entire family is trapped on the land they died in. You – know about the Hale fire?”

Lydia just turned her judging eyes on him.

“They didn't pass on after. I don't know if it was something the Argents did, or just the nature of their deaths. But they're stuck there. They can't move on. _I_ can't move on. Every time I think about moving away, or adding to my pack, I just hear them screaming and screaming.”

“You murdering your uncle on the site probably didn't help.”

Derek's eyes snapped up to Isaac's. “We were alone.”

Isaac merely shrugged. “It was a violent death, and there was the rush of power that always follows a transfer of Alpha status. I know death.”

“He means I told him,” Void cut in. “You Hales were always so peaceful before. Boring. Now look at you. Pathetic. Weak. _Deliciou-_ ” He cut off with a shriek as the circle of silver grew white hot, and brands formed from letters Derek couldn't quite get his eyes to focus on appeared all the way up his arms. When the glow faded, Void was silent as he shot a hateful glare at Isaac's back.

“Ignore him,” Lydia said. “We all do.”

“If he wasn't useful, I wouldn't keep him around at all.”

“...right.” Derek wasn't sure how he was supposed to react at the viscous show of control over Void. Not that he didn't understand the need for violence; he was closer to violence now as an Alpha than he'd ever been before. He'd always had a problem keeping his temper, keeping the wolf down, reacting to a situation in any other way than baring his fangs and sinking his teeth in. But—blatant violence against another creature, a prisoner; that stank of hunters, and – he refused to let himself even think her name. But the association was there, all the same.

Lydia cut right through his discomfort with her sharp, businesslike tone. “Standard fee applies; all mythical creatures will donate saliva, blood, hair and semen.”

“Semen? Really?”

Lydia gave him a cool stare. “You'd be surprised how often it's required.”

“And,” Isaac interjected, “fifty thousand dollars. Because we both know you can afford it.”

Derek went to argue on reflex, and then slowly closed his mouth. Then, “Yeah. Yes. I agree.”

“Of course you do,” Lydia said, already reaching down underneath the counter for a stack of pages.

Derek read every word. He was much warier of magical contracts than any human document, and while he doubted that Isaac would actually steal his soul (if only because it'd be bad for business,) he had no intention of agreeing to anything he hadn't been specifically told about. But when he'd worked his way through the entire thing, the legal jargon worked out to being no different than what they'd said, save that the cash amount was now seventy thousand. Derek didn't bother correct it. He had more money than he'd ever be able to spend on his own—a fortune that had originally been intended to support a family of fifteen, plus the life insurance policies and trust funds he'd inherited at twenty-one. He really didn't care if they thought they were fleecing him.

“If you want cash, you'll have to wait until tomorrow.” He'd have to go to a larger branch of his bank and go through a lot of people wringing their hands and worrying about why he's withdrawing so much cash out of his account at one time. There would be tax forms. He had enough money to cover it, he just hated having to pretend he was human long enough for that type of interaction.

“I'm more than happy to give you our account number for a wire transfer.” Lydia informed him. “We're a completely legitimate business.”

Derek glanced pointedly at the book labeled _100 Uses for Infants_ and said absolutely nothing.

“Our suppliers are very discreet.”

They'd have to be, or the IRS would be the least of their worries. A shop as well stocked as this probably supplied the ingredients and spell books for every dark witch, wizard, shaman, druid or mage on the West Coast. Derek wished his family had been able to stay even half as hidden.

“How about bearer bonds?”

Lydia arched her brow at him.

Derek just glared at her. “I can cover it. I'll send them by private courier; you'll get them by tomorrow. Can I borrow your phone?”

A quick phone call ensured that the correct amount of bearer bonds would arrive at the shop the next day at 9am precisely.

That seemed to satisfy her, and she smiled at him. He stood to leave; he had no interest in staying in the shop any longer than was absolutely necessary. His nose was already starting to identify things he didn't want to be smelling. The faintest of screams was filtering up from underneath them; Derek was certain there was a dungeon in their basement.

“You'll get the samples when the job's done,” he said. “Tell me when you've made progress.”

Lydia looked rather cross about that, but Derek had already decided he'd like to come through this encounter with his life intact, and as much sanity as he could still claim. Isaac merely cocked his head and studied him with that disturbing expression again, as if he were trying to unearth Derek's motivations.

“Tonight.”

“What?”

“Tonight,” Isaac repeated, “We'll take a look at the Hale house. Meet me at the edge of the territory just before midnight.”

“Isn't that going to be when the curse is the strongest?”

“I'm a necromancer, Derek. If you wanted to do things during the day, you should have found someone else.”

Derek's mouth twisted in displeasure, but he nodded slightly, and had to force himself not to barrel out the door. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he still stopped in the doorway in shock when he saw that the exit no longer led to the empty Dunkin Donuts parking lot, but out into the middle of the woods, instead. He forced himself not to ask, and stalked out. He'd be fine; he was practically made for the woods.

He loped a little ways away from the shop, if it was even still there (he didn't bother turn around and check.) A deep breath and extra focus gave him the scent of the forest around him for miles. His ears twitched as he matched sounds to scents, and got a sense of where he was. He was deep in the Preserve, past the land his family owned. It made sense for the shop to be on unclaimed territory, especially if they wanted to stay out of the hunter's radars.

It worked for Derek, because he was about an hour's hard run from his den, and he needed to burn off some serious energy if he was going to be in any shape for interacting with humans tonight. He let his beta shift come over him, flowing from one form to the next with ease, because as usual his wolf was far too close to the surface. His wolf rejoiced; no more pretending to be human, no blending in, only the ground beneath his paws, and the air in his lungs. And then a hunt, and the taste of fresh blood in his mouth, soothing a hunger that went deeper than food.

The wolf receded once he was back in his den; a cave less than a mile from the burnt out shell of his house that his family had once used for ceremonies, celebrations, baptisms and marriages under the full moon. It was just past the cursed ground; far enough away that Derek didn't have to be worried about being killed by vengeful spirits in his sleep, but close enough that he could still feel his pack. They were dead; they were ghosts chained to the land they died on, but they were still pack, and Derek couldn't leave them. Maybe if he'd still had any living pack, it would be easier, but he hadn't been able to pull himself away. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to.

Derek had gone a little farther under than he'd intended, apparently. His clothes were practically shredded, though his leather jacket had held together fairly well. He'd have to take it to get dry cleaned again, because it was covered in mud and blood and grass and bark, just like the rest of him. He had blood on his mouth and bits of whatever he'd eaten (deer, by the smell and the taste) stuck between his teeth. His nails and fangs were still extended; his body generally resisted changing back until he was clean. He could shift back, but then whenever he changed again all that would come back; and week old blood was disgusting.

He stripped out of his clothes, placing his leather jacket next to his bed, and the rest of the rags next to the ashes of his campfire. At least he could use them as fuel. Then he took his shoes and his jacket with him to the stream near his den. The water was cold, though not as cold as it had been last winter. The stream fed from snow melt in the mountains, and always ran cold and quick and clear. He scrubbed his skin with sand and rinsed his hair over and over until all the matted blood was gone. Then he rinsed his shoes and jacket as much as he could. He was lucky the laundromat ladies never asked why he had so much blood on the clothes he brought them. They probably thought he was in the mob or something.

When he got back to his den, he had to force himself to put some pants on, light a fire, and eat a can of mixed vegetables. His wolf wasn't interested in being human—it hadn't been all that interested since the fire, and when he'd become an Alpha with a dead pack he'd lost the desire entirely. But he had to stay human, at least long enough to put his pack to rest. After that, maybe he'd go into his Alpha wolf form and just...never change back. His family would be terribly disappointed, especially after Laura went through so much trouble to keep him alive, but they'd be gone by then. He'd considered biting someone a few times, but after everything, it just didn't seem worth it.

He didn't brush his teeth, but he did floss them with a biodegradable floss threader, and then buried it like he did all his compostables. The can went in a reusable bag to be taken to the recycling bins the next time he went to the store for supplies. After that, there wasn't anything he wanted to do. His wolf was as content as it ever got, his stomach was full, and he didn't have to be anywhere until midnight. So he set his internal clock to wake up at about eleven thirty, curled up on the pile of old clothes and blankets that served as his bed, and went to sleep.

xxx

The stench of death and _wrong_ woke him. Isaac was apparently early, since it wasn't midnight. Derek didn't bother put clothes on other than the sweats, because he'd be shifting into his wolf form once they had finished speaking. He couldn't face his family human. He just couldn't.

The fire had mostly died down, but he ground it out completely with his foot, and then headed out of his den, rubbing against the entrance a few times to keep his scent fresh. No animals would enter his den with the scent of an Alpha werewolf lingering around, and most supernatural creatures would find an easier place to rest. He set off at a lope towards the place where he could feel the death aura the strongest, and sure enough, Isaac was there, sitting in a disturbingly perfect circle clearing on a log that looked too perfect to have fallen naturally, with the almost full moon overhead and Void standing eerily still next to him. Isaac wasn't even trying to hide his power, and he practically stank of death and decay. Void smelled of sulfur and – well, there weren't real words for it. He smelled of violence and chaos and death, both new and long past.

“Hello, Derek.” Isaac's smile was dark and feral this time, and he didn't even try to hide the slow trail of his eyes roaming up and down Derek's bare skin. “You look...good.”

Derek scowled. “I'm not here to flirt.”

Isaac huffed, and stood. “Excuse me for trying to have a little fun. Lead the way to the house, then. Void, come.” Isaac tugged his hand behind himself, like he was yanking a leash, and Void stumbled after him. To Derek's Alpha eyes, there was a silver and red cord running from Isaac's wrist up to Void's mouth, like a muzzle. Void did not look pleased.

“Their ashes are at the site. Laura – Laura is buried beside the house and Peter is buried under it.”

“Thanks.”

Derek couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. It didn't help that Isaac was wearing a ridiculous scarf, for some reason. He huffed and stripped out of his pants, not really caring whether Isaac was looking (he was), draped his pants across a branch, and then shifted. It hurt. It always hurt, but he buried the pain and embraced his wolf, though he had to try to keep some thoughts in his head instead of just letting the wolf wash over him like he usually did. When the transformation was complete, his head came up to Isaac's waist, and he had the pleasure of seeing Void wince. Apparently the demon didn't like his wolf very much.

Demon probably wasn't the right term. He was a kitsune; Derek could see that by the dark fox-shaped shroud around Stiles' body, spiked in places because it was a specter forced into a body instead of growing out of it naturally like a born kitsune would have. Void was apparently a nogitsune.

He had known there was a dark fox spirit buried out under the Nemeton; it was one of the things his family had protected. Derek wasn't really happy about the fact that Void had killed his friend or the fact that Isaac was using him as a familiar, but unbound, the nogitsune could have caused a lot more harm. Either way, as long as Isaac wasn't murdering people in his territory, it really wasn't any of his business. Especially when he was purchasing Isaac's services.

“Pretty impressive.” Isaac said, taking in Derek's wolf form.

Derek sneezed.

“Well, fine then. Lead the way.”

Derek picked his way through the underbrush, reminding himself every few minutes to stop and make sure Isaac was behind him. He didn't know why he'd even worried; Isaac was always there, just behind him, as silent and cold as death itself. It made Derek's wolf uneasy. Isaac so clearly did _not_ belong there. Even more than Void, there was just something _off_ about Isaac.

Soon his senses began to tingle in an entirely different way. They had crossed into the cursed territory. Derek could feel his pack in a way he couldn't even when he reached out to them from outside this place. They were there; close. So close, he could practically feel the cold exhale of their breath on his ruff, and his ears echoed with their screams. They weren't coherent today, which was a blessing and a curse all of its own. There was no speaking, no hurled and angry words, only screams. Sometimes Derek thought it would drive him insane. Sometimes he wondered if he already was.

“I can see why you need a necromancer.” Isaac said, and the ghosts scattered at his words. Derek blinked open eyes he didn't even know he had shut, and looked up at Isaac.

The necromancer was wreathed in darkness; it streamed around him like a cloak. His eyes looked like pits of burning fire in his skull, and there was a thrumming of power in the air. Void had grown darker and larger as well, his spirit oozing to the surface of the body he wore, his eyes flaring deep orange, his mouth full of silvery teeth, with silver claws coming out of his fingers. Derek's wolf shuddered again, and a low whine escaped his teeth.

Isaac reached down and twisted a hand into the fur around Derek's head, like a human putting a hand on another's shoulder. “Stay focused, Derek. I'm not the only thing here that controls death.”

Derek whined again, low in his throat. He didn't know what Isaac meant. There were just the ghosts; the smell of cold and dark and death, the smell of ashes and smoke and pain. The stench of Peter's rotting corpse, barely buried under the dirt. The smell of betrayal.

And then the shadows in front of them coalesced into a shape with a sharp edge, and the scythe swung down at them where there had been nothing only moments ago. Derek snarled and threw himself in the way; between it and Isaac. He was expendable. Isaac could free his family. Nothing else mattered.

He howled as the blade bit into him, deep.

“Shinigami!” Void snarled.

There was another flash of metal, as a katana formed in Isaac's hand where there was nothing. He threw it to Void, and said, “Bring me something of its.”

Then sounds of fighting, but there were no more weapons piercing his body, so he must not be the one fighting. His breath echoed in his ears, and he smelled blood. It was cold, even though the pain should have been white hot; agonizing. This was just _cold,_ so cold it burned. It pierced all the way through him. His soul felt numb. He just wanted to lay down and die, to just give up his spirit without a fight. There was no point in going on, anyway.

“Come on, Derek, focus.”

Isaac was kneeling on the ground next to him. He hadn't even noticed he'd fallen over. “I can't heal wolves, Derek, I only work with people and people-shaped things. You've got to shift back.”

The wolf didn't understand. This was him. There wasn't any back to go to. He was dying, in any case. Isaac should leave him alone, at least until he was dead. If he was hungry, well, he could eat Derek then, once he was gone. He just wanted to die first.

“Derek! You're a werewolf; not a wolf. Come _on_.”

There was a hand on his shoulder. It was cold. And the voice, so soft it could have been carried on a breeze. _“Oh little brother. What have you done now?”_

He tried to reply, but he didn't have a voice.

_“Whatever we are, we're also people, Derek. Why do you always forget that?”_

He wanted to speak to her. He just didn't know what to _do_.

The hand reached inside him, and he gasped. It found the person buried under the wolf; buried deep, almost gone, and _pulled_. Derek found his voice, and screamed as he was forced back into a human body he didn't want. He just wanted to let go. Why wouldn't they just let him _go_?

“God, you're such an idiot.” And that was Isaac's voice again, cold and angry. He tried to speak; he had a voice now, he was fairly sure, but all that came out was a deep, rasping cough, and the taste of blood on his lips.

“Stop dying.” This wasn't a suggestion, it was a command, and Derek could hear the magic in it, leaping from Isaac's voice into his body. The bleeding stopped, though the wounds didn't really heal. It still hurt, but he wasn't dying any more. He couldn't, even if he'd wanted to, though now that he wasn't, he wasn't sure why he'd ever wanted to.

“Good. Now stand up, and walk.” Isaac made a gesture towards the air in front of them, and opened a swirling purple and black portal which he practically shoved Derek through before stepping through himself.

The other side of the portal was – a loft. It was dark, and mostly empty. There was a bed shoved over against a wall that looked to be mostly windows, and a couch and coffee table facing a wall mounted television that looked small compared to the bare expanse of wall it perched on.

“Why – why d'you have a huge hole in your wall?” he slurred. He felt nauseous and sick, probably from blood loss.

“Summoning ritual went bad.”

“...your loft smells like blood. And bleach.”

Isaac actually smiled at that. “Necromancer. Things get messy.”

“Oh.” The ground looked...ripply. Derek found himself staring at it, and didn't even realize he'd slid to the floor before Isaac's ice cold hands were hauling him back up. Isaac was apparently very strong for his size.

“Okay, into bed with you. Let that Alpha level healing do its work.” Isaac hauled him over to the huge bed and pushed him onto it. Derek went without too much protest, because he really couldn't have stopped Isaac if he'd wanted to. He passed out before Isaac had even finished pulling the covers up over him.

xxx

When he woke up again, there was an icy body pressed up against him, and Void was standing in front of the bed, dripping blood everywhere.

“Fuck!”

His exclamation must have woken Isaac, because the other man stirred, and sat up blearily. “Did you get it?”

Void gurgled something incomprehensible; it looked like his throat had been cut. Derek stared in morbid fascination as blood trickled down his neck. Void pushed out one hand jerkily, and opened it. Inside was a bloody, shattered piece of white pottery, which didn't look very impressive to Derek but which earned a satisfied hiss from Isaac.

Isaac had apparently stripped down to his pants before bed, though he was still wearing a damn scarf, which Derek didn't understand at all. He reached out greedily for the pottery shard. Once Void had handed it over his whole body jerked like a string had been cut. The katana clattered out of his hand and onto the floor, and he crumpled into a puddle of limbs and his own blood.

“Is he dead?” Derek asked cautiously.

“No. He can't die unless I let him.” The cold way Isaac made the statement made Derek shiver again. How the hell had this kid gotten in so deep so young?

“He'll be fine in a few days.” Isaac seemed to be judging the distance between Void and the large open window, then finally shrugged and dragged him across the room and into the wall with the huge hole in it. There was another silver circle there, set into the concrete floor. Then he walked back over to where the blood and the katana were, and picked up the sword. He made a swirling motion with his hand, and the sword and the blood disappeared.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

“Yes, actually.” He was starving, but he wasn't in pain any more. He was in desperate need of a shower, and Isaac's sheets were probably beyond saving, but overall, he felt better.

“Good. I collected some samples while you were sleeping; hope you don't mind. There's food in the fridge and the shower doesn't run out of hot water. I don't know where you've been living but you seriously need some conditioner in your hair. Then you might as well let yourself out, because I've got research to do.”

Derek felt like they were skirting around a rather massive point. “And the shinigami?”

Isaac's eyes practically gleamed. “That's what this is for.” He held up the pottery shard triumphantly. “Now. I have to research. I'll call you when I've got something.” Isaac paused. “You do have a phone, don't you?”

He did; it was dead. “I need to charge it.”

Isaac snorted, went to a box of junk in the corner, pulled out a pen and paper, and scribbled down a number which he handed to Derek. “Seriously, shower.”

Derek huffed, and took the paper. There were hearts next to Isaac's name. He grimaced, and slid out of bed. He headed in the direction of the shower, finding it easily enough since there wasn't much in the apartment. It had been a really long time since he'd used a shower, but it wasn't something you really forgot how to do. He did actually let out a moan of pleasure as the hot water beat down on him. There was just something about human comforts that he'd really missed. As much as he'd like to pretend otherwise, just as Laura said, he was still a person.

He used Isaac's shampoo, and conditioned his hair twice, since Isaac had made such a big deal about it. Not like he was trying to impress him, or anything. It was just that Derek hadn't gotten laid in a really long time, and Isaac seemed to be interested. He wasn't interested in a relationship, but sex could be satisfying. His wolf hummed in pleasure at the idea, and Derek had to force himself to stop thinking about it. Either way, he wasn't going to initiate anything now. It was too soon, and Isaac had work to do.

When he got out, there was a neat stack of clothes waiting for him, which Derek suspected had been resized by magic, since Isaac was both slightly taller and skinnier than him. The jeans were dark and thick, the shirt thin, clinging to his body. It was the exact shade of green as his eyes, because of course Isaac had a flair for the dramatic. There were socks and black combat boots that fit him perfectly, and the underwear – well. It didn't really bear speaking about.

Isaac was already ensconced on the ratty old couch, surrounded by books when Derek came out of the bathroom. He looked up and smiled appreciatively at Derek, and Derek let him look without saying anything. “There's coffee and eggs, if you want.”

Derek could smell it for himself, of course, along with the heady, rich scent of bacon, which made his mouth water. He hadn't had bacon in – he couldn't remember how long. “Are you trying to romance me?”

Isaac snickered. “Only a werewolf would think bacon was romance. But since you asked; is it working?” His eyes practically gleamed.

“I'll let you know.”

Isaac turned back to his books, so Derek was clearly meant to help himself. He wouldn't feel bad for eating everything that was left, then. When he approached the kitchen counter, he saw an entire pan of eggs, baked with cheese and ham and spinach, a stack of wheat toast triangles dripping with butter, a pot of coffee, a stack of what was apparently cinnamon pancakes, and an entire plate of bacon. There was no way that he'd been in the shower long enough for Isaac to make this, but when he turned around with a question on his lips, Isaac just winked at him. The bacon smelled divine, and he decided he didn't really care where it had come from, as long as he got to eat it.

He ate everything, and it was delicious. He hadn't had human food that hadn't come out of a can in over a year. Hadn't wanted it. He'd forgotten just how good it could be. And caffeine. Caffeine. How the hell had he ever gotten up in the morning without it? Coffee was a beautiful thing.

When he was done, he went to rinse off his dishes in the sink, but there was no dish soap, and he didn't see a dishwasher. “What should I do with my dishes?”

“Just put them anywhere. They'll disappear in a minute.”

Derek realized then that Isaac didn't have _any_ appliances. Not even a coffee maker. “How did you-?”

Isaac's eyes were dark as he said, “Well. There has to be some perk to selling your soul for black magic, doesn't there?”

Right. For some reason it kept slipping his mind that Isaac had most likely done very bad things to get his magic. It had something to do with his dark humor, or the way that no matter how you looked at it, Isaac just didn't seem all that threatening. Probably right up until the point where he ripped your heart out of your chest. He shivered again. If his mother had been alive, she would have skinned him for even speaking to a necromancer, much less flirting with one.

“I'll text you when my phone is charged.”

Isaac nodded distractedly, completely unaware of Derek's inner turmoil. “I'll call you when I have something. You can let yourself out.”

He did, possibly a little faster than necessary. Hopefully, Isaac wouldn't notice.

xxx

It was the night of the full moon, and Isaac still hadn't called him. Derek had been diligently going to the lone Starbucks in town and charging his phone while he drank his morning coffee, but Isaac hadn't contacted him at all. He'd braved the bank, interactions with people he was more interested in eating than buying coffee from, and stared at the tiny cellphone screen all morning every morning for the last week. Nothing. He should have known better than to get attached.

His skin itched with the need to transform. Normally he spent the two days leading up to the full moon as a wolf, and spent the night prowling his territory, looking for anything that might be a threat to his family's spirits, or who expected to catch a werewolf out of his mind with bloodlust. He hadn't done that this month, to preoccupied with waiting for Isaac to contact him and worried about the shinigami. What if they couldn't get rid of it? Would his family just stay tied to the land forever? Would he join them once he finally gave up on life? He'd had enough shit happen to him while he was alive, he was seriously hoping for a respite in death.

He felt like shit, his bones radiating a dull and aching pain, as his body kept starting to transform and he forced it back down again. He probably looked like he was having a fit or something, the way he kept shuddering. On top of all that, he was horny as hell. He normally was, during the full moon, but it was easy to push away when he didn't have anyone to focus on, and Derek hadn't felt anything remotely resembling attraction since he'd had to kill Peter. Until now. His wolf _wanted_ , and it wanted Isaac.

Derek really thought he might go insane.

Finally, after day of frustration and pacing and chewing his nails down to the quick and finding himself humping the pile of blankets in his den for the fourth time, he called Isaac. It was stupid; who knew if Isaac would even pick up and Derek had never really been outgoing and -

“Hello?”

“Hi,” he replied, his voice rough and aching, “Do you want to fuck?”

Well, so much for being subtle.

Isaac didn't even pause, he just said, “Yes. Can you be here in fifteen minutes?”

“I'll be there in five.”

It was risky, running through the streets at his top speed, but Derek didn't care. There hadn't been hunters in Beacon Hills since they'd wiped out his family. And that wasn't what he wanted to think about right now. He wanted to get _laid_. Of course Isaac's apartment had to be way out on the edge of town, on the top floor of a ridiculous abandoned warehouse building. Because why would it be somewhere easy for Derek to get to?

He spent the ride to the top in the rickety lift trying and failing to calm his nerves. His fangs were out, and his eyes had probably changed, but he didn't care. The lift shuddered to a stop at the top floor, and Derek wrenched the door open. He could smell Isaac and arousal and he didn't even stop to speak, just leapt onto the other man and crashed them both into a wall, his hands going under Isaac's clothes and his mouth finding the other man's in a wild brush of tongue and teeth.

“I have to say, I'm glad you changed your mind.” Isaac chuckled, and Derek just snarled at him, and shredded his shirt at the seams, ripping the rest of it off of him and pressing his nose into Isaac's chest, breathing him in.

“Can't – stay human,” he rumbled, his fingers already giving way to claws, his whole body surging with lust.

“I really hadn't expected you to.” Isaac said, and sounded sincere for once, instead of sarcastic.

Derek rumbled something from deep in his chest, but he wasn't sure if he was trying to form words or just make a general statement about Isaac's body being _his_. Words were sort of falling away at that point, retreating into his brain to make way for the raw, animal instincts that roared through him. He'd never given his wolf this satisfaction, ever, and had kept the desire chained up even more since becoming Alpha and being overwhelmed with the flood of instincts and needs.

He picked Isaac up off the floor and dragged them both over to the bed, throwing Isaac down on it and climbing up on top of him. He barely noticed when Isaac pulled his shirt off, too busy licking a path across Isaac's muscles, smelling the scent at his neck, his armpits, the tantalizing patch of hair that trailed down to his groin. He _wanted_. Everything.

Isaac wanted, too, because he didn't keep his hands to himself, roaming across Derek's back, digging his fingers in when Derek nipped too hard at his skin, sucking hard enough at Derek's neck to leave bruises despite Derek's healing factor. He was the one who remembered how belts worked, who got Derek to stop humping him long enough to strip them both down to their underwear so Derek could grind their erections together.

Derek ran his tongue down Isaac's belly and groaned at the hot scent of arousal and pre-come dripping from Isaac's dick. He stuck his face against Isaac's erection and breathed it in, mouthing at his cock through Isaac's underwear. Isaac liked it too, judging by how one hand tightened in Derek's hair until it was actually painful, and the other raked fingernails down his back. He tried to ask how they were going to do this, whatever this was, because he was too swamped in lust to really think anything through, but then Isaac was shoving his underwear down and stuffing his cock into Derek's mouth and Derek just took it because he wanted and wanted and _wanted_.

He hadn't sucked another guy off since college, but it didn't seem like he'd lost any skill, or if he had, Isaac didn't care. After a little bit of Derek sucking Isaac as deep into his throat as he could while trying not to slice him open on his fangs, Isaac flipped them over with a display of strength that left Derek reeling. He didn't fight back though, he let Isaac take over and _fuck_ him as hard as he could, shoving his dick in over and over and over until Derek couldn't stand it any more. He whined and fisted the bedsheets, and wanted Isaac to fucking _touch him._

“I'm going to fuck your ass now, okay?” Isaac said, his voice husky and dry.

Derek just moaned. He'd always been the one on top with the various men and women he'd dated after the fire. People just looked at his height and build and assumed that he'd want to top. And he enjoyed it, but he liked being fucked, too. He just couldn't ever seem to find the right person. And it didn't matter that he was an Alpha; Isaac was just as powerful as he was and probably more so, even if it wasn't all raw strength and stacked muscle. Just the thought of Isaac fucking him was enough to almost send him over the edge.

“Be right back.”

There was the sound of crinkling plastic as Isaac tore open a condom, and then the thick scent of lube, and then Isaac was back, not bothering to prep him at all, just pulling him up on his hands and knees and fucking _mounting_ him and it was so, _so_ good. Derek let out a shout that was more of a roar and arched his back, and Isaac grabbed his shoulder and dug his fingernails in until Derek felt blood run down his back. It was brutal; Isaac didn't try to be gentle with him at all, which was something Derek had never had in a partner before. He'd never slept with someone who had known what he was, but Isaac took full advantage of his healing and his resistance to pain. It was hands down the best fuck he'd ever had. He came howling, Isaac following a moment later, his harsh breaths panting into Derek's ears and the smell of come filling his senses.

They lay there, after, and Derek was content just to _be_ , his wolf for once wholly and completely satisfied. But Isaac stirred, and said,

“So...what are we now?”

“I don't know.”

“Fuck buddies?” Isaac asked, his voice hopeful.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Relationships don't. Work out, for me.”

“So...sex on the full moon?”

“...yes. I can't. I can't agree to more than that. Not – I can't.”

“Well. I'm not going to argue about sex. But sometime, if you want...”

“Yeah. I get it.”

He tried to settle again, pressed up against the heat of Isaac's body, finally warm for once, and their mixed scents, but the pull of the moon was too strong. He felt twitchy. His claws and fangs, which had receded after his orgasm, came out again, and he kept fidgeting in the bedsheets when Isaac finally sighed and shoved at him.

“C'mon, get up. We're going for a run.”

“Really?” He'd run with his pack when he was small; before the fire, they'd all run together, hunting and playing elaborate games of tag in the forest. In New York they hadn't run at all, though Derek had done laps around Central Park every morning, and Laura had practically lived at the gym. But since then -

“Yes, really. I'd bring Void with, he needs the exercise, but I need him at full strength for the unsummoning ritual I'm doing tomorrow.”

That perked Derek's interest. “Unsummoning ritual?”

“Run first, business later.”

Derek shook himself, and got up. Isaac waved a hand and summoned his clothes, and was instantly dressed, clean and fresh-faced. He still smelled like them though, for which Derek was grateful. It would have been jarring if his scent had just been stripped away like that.

A similar wave of Isaac's hand had Derek yelping, as a thousand unseen hands crept across his body, cleaning him as they went. He found himself in the tattered pair of sweat pants he'd worn to transform the first time they'd been out in the woods together and he just stared at Isaac in disbelief at the overwhelming display of magic. Isaac just grinned and waggled his fingers, and Derek found himself staring for a moment at how long and nimble they were.

“Come on, we don't have all night.”

“Like you wouldn't be up anyway.”

“I could think of better things to be doing.” Isaac leered, and Derek let him look.

Derek just snorted. “Wouldn't it be better if I just changed now?”

Isaac considered it. “I don't think so. You look like you're barely holding onto yourself. I'd rather not have a wolf going crazy in my loft.”

“Might improve the place,” Derek muttered.

“I heard that.”

They took the lift down, and Derek tried his best not to fidget the whole way down. He wanted _out_ dammit. He wasn't used to all this playing house. When they got to the bottom, Isaac motioned over to an old, beaten up Jeep that looked vaguely familiar.

“Isn't that -” It was Claudia's Jeep. Laura had borrowed it a few times when she'd babysat, and Derek could never get over how _sad_ it made Stiles smell.

“Stiles'? Yeah. His dad sold it to me after he died. Didn't want it around. It makes Stiles' body happy, makes Void more stable.”

Derek felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up. He didn't like thinking about the fact that his friend was dead. Not even properly dead; reanimated, with a demon inside him. And he was fucking the guy who resurrected him. How messed up was that?

He climbed in and was practically assaulted with the scent of Stiles, though it was overlaid by years of food being eaten in the vehicle—the smell of curly fries was particularly strong. It had a lingering scent of Isaac, and the sharp, sulfuric scent of demon, too. And the faintest scent of asthma medication, which must have been from Scott, unless Stiles had made friends with other seriously asthmatic kids back when he was alive.

“This is weird.”

“What, driving around in your dead friend's vehicle?”

“The fact that you drive around like a normal person. But yeah. That.”

Isaac gave him an almost pitying glance. “I don't know what you want, Derek. I'm not a nice person. I don't even try any more. But I didn't kill him, you know.”

“No, you're just using his corpse.”

“ _Void_ is using his corpse. And trust me, I've tried to transplant him half a dozen times. Do you think I want to be dragging the Sheriff's dead kid around with me all the time? I've had to wipe more memories than I care to think about. But he won't be moved. Void thinks Stiles is still in there, somewhere, and he won't let go. They're all tangled together; I can't get him out.”

“Stiles is still alive?”

Isaac shrugged. “His spirit might still be there, Derek but his body's dead. Been dead for a long time. It still functions. He's got to eat, and his body likes to watch television sometimes even though Void can't stand watching it, and he likes the Jeep. But he hasn't aged, and I've never seen a spark of his soul at all. If I knew how to pronounce his name I might -”

“No.”

“Fine,” Isaac sounded irritated. “Just say no to everything, see how far that gets you. You're the one who contacted me. You're the one who fucking called me for sex. So stop acting like you have some kind of moral high ground here.”

Derek set his jaw. He could probably blame some of his reaction on the full moon; he was always more irritable then, but not all of it. “Sorry.”

Isaac didn't respond, he just turned the stereo on full blast and focused on the road. He was listening to jazz, which irritated Derek more, for some reason. No one who reanimated corpses should like something as soothing as jazz. Where was the punk rock, the heavy metal? The screeching about death, the drowning in angst? Then he decided he was being an ass, and ground his teeth together. This was what he got for pretending to be human.

Isaac parked in an old parking lot filled with weeds, and Derek was out before the engine even turned off. He kicked off his sweatpants and transformed, embracing the pain of crunching limbs and contorting muscles. He didn't wait for Isaac; he didn't want to even _see_ Isaac right now, much less run with him. He just bolted, pushing his long limbs as fast as they would go, running until he was exhausted. Alphas could get tired, werewolves weren't invincible. If he pushed himself hard enough, he'd get winded and ache. He wanted that ache, the burn in his muscles. He wanted the labored breathing, the utter exhaustion. He wanted to lose himself in it.

Eventually he collapsed in a pile of dead leaves, tongue lolling, lungs heaving for breath. The shift melted away from him, and he just lay there naked, sweat pouring down his skin. He didn't want to move. He had become frustratingly human; he couldn't lose himself in the shift any more. But he didn't feel comfortable in this human skin. The shape felt all wrong, his senses dulled and his thoughts racing. He hated it.

“Do you want some water?”

Derek yelped, his whole body jolting with surprise. He didn't get very far before his muscles gave out on him, and he collapsed back down to the ground with a moan. Isaac was standing over him, holding out a bottle of water. Derek glared at him on principle, because he didn't need help, and then took the bottle of water and downed it in three large gulps.

“How the hell did you follow me?”

Isaac shrugged, and wrapped the darkness around himself, and then he wasn't there any more, he was across the clearing, stepping out into the sharp moonlight. Then he disappeared back into the shadows and emerged next to Derek again. “I get around.”

“Do you even have limits to your power?”

“Sure. A necromancer's power is fueled by his familiars. Void's really powerful, so I'm powerful. But if I lost him, my powers would be severely limited again until I bound a new one. Beyond that, it's a matter of study and concentration.”

“Like _Howl's Moving Castle_?”

Isaac smiled. “Something like that.”

“What did you have to give up?”

Isaac sighed, and plopped down in the leaves next to Derek. He ran a hand down Derek's sweaty chest, probably to distract him, but Derek wasn't going to be distracted. “Do you really want to know?”

“I asked, didn't I?”

Isaac's fidgited a little; he wouldn't look Derek directly in the eye. His hands were still wandering, staying just barely above Derek's waist. It felt – good. But Isaac looked miserable. Maybe he was trying to distract himself.

“My dad used to – abuse me. It started after my mom died, got worse when my brother died in combat. He used to just yell at first, maybe throw a dish or two. It got worse. He started drinking all the time, and he'd hit me. I thought maybe it was my fault, maybe I just wasn't doing enough to make him happy, you know, since mom died he'd been pretty miserable. But it just kept escalating. One time he shoved me down a flight of stairs and I broke my arm in two places.

“When we went to the hospital, I tried to tell someone what happened, but my dad was right there the whole time, watching me. After we got home, he started screaming about how he knew I was trying to get away from him, get away from the punishment I deserved. I don't really remember what he said after that, he was just talking nonsense. He got me down in the basement, where there was this old freezer, and he picked me up and threw me in. I was pretty high from all the pain killers they'd given me so I didn't even fight back. He locked me in there overnight—didn't let me out till he'd sobered up and when he did, he just told me it was my own damn fault I'd ended up in there.

“I fucking hated it. It just got worse and worse, and I hated him but I still loved him, you know? Because he was my _dad_. I didn't have anyone else. And he just kept hurting me and I kept letting him, all through high school. No one suspected a thing; I got really good at lying about everything, coming up with excuses, fading away.

“Then Stiles was murdered. Something about that jump-started my magic – Lydia thinks it was all the energy in the air that would have been released when Void escaped the prison he was in. I don't know. All I know is that I suddenly felt powerful.

“I'd been in therapy with Ms. Morell for years, though she never really pushed; I kinda liked and hated her for that. And the next time I saw her after I'd gotten my magic she lent me a book. Basic spells, magic theory, that sort of thing. It had a couple dark spells too. I was shit at everything but those. So I started looking into it more, and that's how I met Lydia. She'd been looking into her heritage, too.

“We graduated, and I was still living at home and doing dark magic in the basement. Fear is an excellent power source, you know, even if it's your own. One day, I was working on a summoning circle, and dad came down and found me there, with blood up to my elbows and he just lost it. Started throwing everything he could reach at me, and screaming about how ungrateful I was and I just - I just felt it, all that rage I'd pushed down bubbling up white hot, and when my dad came at me, I fought back. I ripped his fucking heart out.”

Isaac was gripping his knees so tight his knuckles were white. He wasn't crying, but his eyes had this emptiness to them that made Derek's heart ache. He supposed he should have been disgusted, but all he could think of was that if Isaac's father wasn't already dead he'd have killed the man himself.

“Anyways. You can pretty much guess the rest of it from there. I summoned a familiar, right there in that fucking basement, and it ended up being Void. I had a hell of a time covering up the murder, and I think Stillinski's always suspected me for it. I opened up the shop with Lydia. And then I met you.”

Isaac hadn't really answered his question; not directly. But Derek didn't push. Instead he shifted himself forward until his head was in Isaac's lap, bringing up a hand and closing it gently around Isaac's. The other man gripped his hands like a lifeline, and curled up around Derek.

“I'll do the ritual tomorrow. I've done enough research for it. And then you don't have to ever see me again.”

Derek hesitates before admitting, “I want to.”

“Seriously? Less than an hour ago you were going on about how you don't want a relationship.”

“I didn't say it'd be easy. But that doesn't mean I don't want to see you.” Derek gave a little broken laugh. “Besides. You put up with my shit.”

“Well. Someone's got to. What were you planning on doing, anyways? After the ritual? Just running off and never looking back?”

Derek's silence answered for him.

“Can't have that,” Isaac said finally. “I don't know if I can replace a whole pack, Derek.”

“You don't have to.”

“You need a pack, Derek.”

Derek set his jaw and looked away; Isaac pulled him back. “No, Derek, you do. Look. I know some people. Loners, like me. Invisible people. They need someone. If you don't mind a little, broken family to replace what you used to have.”

“No. No, broken suits me just fine. Maybe if there are enough of us, we won't be so broken anymore.”

Isaac runs a hand through his hair, and kisses him gently. “Yeah. I'd like that.”

End


End file.
